Chapter V: Book 4: ) (2)

“When I told the clerk that I would take a turn in the air while I
waited, he advised me to go round the corner and I should come into
Smithfield. So I came into Smithfield; and the shameful place, being
all asmear with filth, and fat, and blood, and foam, seemed to stick
to me. So, I rubbed it off with all possible speed by turning into a
street where I saw the great black dome of Saint Paul’s bulging at me
from behind a grim stone building which a bystander said was Newgate
Prison.”

Adopting the same line of route, the Rambler may pass the south front of the Metropolitan Meat Market, turning to the left by St. Bartholomew’s Hospital into _Giltspur Street_, which leads to Newgate Street, and faces on the opposite corner of Old Bailey Newgate Prison. In “Great Expectations,” Pip describes his visit to the interior, at the invitation and in the company of Mr. Wemmick:—

“We passed through the Lodge, where some fetters were hanging up, on
the bare walls among the prison rules, into the interior of the jail.
At that time jails were much neglected, and the period of exaggerated
reaction consequent on all public wrong-doing—and which is always its
longest and heaviest punishment—was still far off. So, felons were
not lodged and fed better than soldiers (to say nothing of paupers),
and seldom set fire to their prisons with the excusable object of
improving the flavour of their soup. It was visiting-time when
Wemmick took me in, and a potman was going his rounds with beer, and
the prisoners behind bars in yards were buying beer and talking to
friends; and a frowsy, ugly, disorderly, depressing scene it was.”

Again, it may be remarked that things have much improved since the good old days. _Inter alia_, the principles and rules of prison management and discipline have greatly changed for the better.

In the tale of “Barnaby Rudge” is the narrative of the burning of Newgate and the liberation of the prisoners by the rioters (1780), on which occasion it will be remembered that our old friend Gabriel Varden was somewhat roughly handled. For full particulars, see chapter 64.

Immediately south of Newgate is the adjacent Central Criminal Court of The Old Bailey, the scene of Charles Darnay’s trial in “The Tale of Two Cities.” At the time there described (1775)—

“The Old Bailey was famous as a kind of deadly Inn yard, from which
pale travellers set out continually, in carts and coaches, on a
violent passage to the other world, traversing some two miles and a
half of public street and road, and shaming few good citizens, if
any. So powerful is use, and so desirable to be good use in the
beginning. It was famous, too, for the pillory, a wise old
institution, that inflicted a punishment of which no one could
foresee the extent; also for the whipping-post, another dear old
institution, very humanising and softening to behold in action; also
for extensive transactions in blood-money, another fragment of
ancestral wisdom.”

Facing eastward from Newgate Street is the _Holborn Viaduct_, which has for many years superseded the old ascending and descending road of Holborn Hill.

The Saracen’s Head, the old coaching-house on Snow Hill, with which we have been familiar from the days of “Nicholas Nickleby,” as the headquarters of Mr. Squeers, has disappeared since 1868, having been pulled down long ago, with many other buildings of this neighbourhood, giving room to the great improvements which have taken place in this part of London. Hereabouts it stood, on a lower level, not far from St. Sepulchre’s Church—

“Just on that particular part of Snow Hill where omnibus horses going
eastward seriously think of falling down on purpose, and horses in
hackney cabriolets going westward not unfrequently fall by accident.”

The present _Police Station_, Snow Hill, stands on part of the site formerly occupied by this old hostelry.

This modern thoroughfare of Snow Hill commences at the first turning on the right, in which has been erected a commodious hotel of the same name (No. 10), where, by the aid of a little refreshment and a slight exercise of imagination, we may recall the departure of Nicholas for Dotheboy’s Hall, Greta Bridge, by the Yorkshire coach, with Mr. Squeers and the pupils; also the later arrival in London of Mr. and Mrs. Browdie, accompanied by the lovely Fanny as bridesmaid, and the first meeting of Nicholas with Frank Cheeryble, newly returned from Continental travel.

Snow Hill leads to the lower level of _Farringdon Road_, at a point immediately north of the Holborn Viaduct spanning the thoroughfare, in which, turning to the right, we walk onwards to the intersection of _Clerkenwell Road_ (eight minutes’ work). On the right hand, across the railway, is Clerkenwell Green, referred to in “Oliver Twist” as

“That open square in Clerkenwell which is yet called by some strange
perversion of terms The Green.”

It was near this place that little Oliver became enlightened as to the business of Charley Bates and the Artful Dodger. We read that the boys, traversing a narrow court in this neighbourhood, came out opposite a bookstall, where Mr. Brownlow was reading, abstracted from all other mundane considerations, so affording “a prime plant” for the operations of these light-fingered gentlemen. This court leads from the road opposite the Sessions House into _Pear Tree Court_, giving into the main road at some distance beyond, at which the scene above referred to was enacted.

Walking onwards by the _King’s Cross Road_ we soon come to the point where _Exmouth Street_ joins it from the east, facing the south-east angle of the House of Correction. Here we strike into the route taken by Oliver Twist when he first came from Barnet to London, under the escort of _Mr. John Dawkins_. The text of the story is as follows:—

“They crossed from the ‘Angel’ into St. John’s Road, struck down the
small street which terminates at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, through
Exmouth Street and Coppice Row, down the little court by the side of
the Workhouse, across the classic ground which once bore the name of
Hockley-in-the-Hole, thence into Little Saffron Hill, and so into
Saffron Hill the Great.”

Following the line thus indicated from Exmouth Street, we come on the south side of the Workhouse, nearly opposite Little Saffron Hill, which leads into _Great Saffron Hill_ as above. Crossing _Clerkenwell Road_, and proceeding for a short distance down Great Saffron Hill, we arrive at the cross street of _Hatton Wall_, in which, past two doors to the left on the south side, will be found—between the _Hat and Tun Inn_ and No. 17 beyond—the entrance of HATTON YARD, a long narrow lane or mews (leading to _Kirby Street_), occupied by carmen and stabling. In this eligible position was situated, some fifty years since, “the very notorious Metropolitan Police Court” to which Oliver Twist was taken on the charge of theft; and we may here recall the administration of the presiding magistrate, the notable Mr. Fang, as shown in the examination of the prisoner.

The premises (No. 9, on the left) once formed part and parcel of the police court referred to; but the arrangements of the neighbourhood have been subjected to much alteration during the last half century. Mr. Forster states that Dickens “had himself a satisfaction in admitting the identity of Mr. Fang, in ‘Oliver Twist,’ with Mr. Laing of Hatton Garden.” In a letter (now in possession of Mr. S. R. Goodman, of Brighton) written to Mr. Haines, Reporter, June 3rd, 1838, Dickens writes as follows:—

“In my next number of ‘Oliver Twist’ I must have a magistrate; and,
casting about for a magistrate whose harshness and insolence would
render him a fit subject to be _shown up_, I have as a necessary
consequence stumbled upon Mr. Laing of Hatton Garden celebrity. I
know the man’s character perfectly well; but as it would be necessary
to describe his personal appearance also, I ought to have seen him,
which (fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be) I have never
done. In this dilemma it occurred to me that perhaps I might under
your auspices be smuggled into the Hatton Garden office for a few
moments some morning. If you can further my object I shall be really
very greatly obliged to you.”

“The opportunity was found; the magistrate was brought up before the novelist; and shortly after, on some fresh outbreak of intolerable temper, the Home Secretary found it an easy and popular step to remove Mr. Laing from the Bench.”

Returning to GREAT SAFFRON HILL, we may recall its description as given in the days of “Oliver Twist”—

“The street was very narrow and muddy, and the air was impregnated
with filthy odours. The sole places that seemed to prosper amid the
general blight of the place were the public-houses, and in them the
lowest orders of the Irish were wrangling with might and main.
Covered ways and yards, which here and there diverged from the main
street, disclosed little knots of houses where drunken men and women
were positively wallowing in filth.”

Field Lane, in the immediate vicinity, _was_

“Near to that spot on which Snow Hill and Holborn Hill meet . . a
narrow dismal alley leading to Saffron Hill. In its filthy shops are
exposed for sale huge bunches of second-hand silk handkerchiefs of
all sizes and patterns, for here reside the traders who purchase them
from the pickpockets.”

This place has been effaced by the Holborn Valley improvements, and we may now look in vain for the precise locality of the house of _Fagin_ the Jew. In this neighbourhood also was situated “The Three Cripples,” a public-house of evil repute patronised by Sykes, Fagin, and Monks. We may recall the circumstance of _Mr. Morris Bolter’s_ (_alias_ Noah Claypole’s) arrival at this house, when he and _Charlotte_ first came to London, and of his subsequent interview with the wily Jew.

It is pleasant to remark that Saffron Hill has greatly improved in its character since the above-quoted description was correct. It now affords accommodation for the headquarters of the _Central Shoeblacks’ Society_ (as established under the auspices of the late Earl of Shaftesbury), and about midway in the street where thieves “did once inhabit,” a large _Board School_ is doing good educational service for the elevation of the humbler classes.

Turning from Great Saffron Hill westward by the _One Tun_ public-house, we come into _Charles Street_, on the south side of which, towards Hatton Garden, is Bleeding Hart Yard (entrance by the Bleeding Hart Tavern, No. 19). This locality is associated with the tale of “Little Dorrit.” It will be remembered that here the factory of _Messrs. Doyce and Clennam_ was situated, and here also resided _Mr. and Mrs. Plornish_, the humble friends of the Dorrit family. In these degenerate days the place has much altered, and the amiable _Mr. Casby_ would certainly find it more difficult than ever to collect his weekly dues, even by the agency of his energetic assistant, Mr. Pancks.

Passing from this unpretending locality, we come (at No. 8) into _Hatton Garden_, which leads southward to _Holborn Circus_.

In Hatton Garden, on the east side, can be observed (No. 20) the old-established warehouse of Messrs. Rowland and Son. In this connection there may be remembered the mad old gentleman “in small clothes,” who lived next door to the _Nicklebys_, at Bow. On the only occasion of his visiting the family indoors, he incidentally referred to “Mrs. Rowland, who, every morning, bathes in Kalydor for nothing.”—See “Nicholas Nickleby,” chapter 49.

Mr. Waterbrook’s establishment, situated in _Ely Place_, _Holborn_, is entitled to passing mention as the place where David and his friend Traddles met each other for the first time after their schoolboy days, on the occasion of a dinner-party, at which also _Agnes Wickfield_ and _Uriah Heep_ attended. Ely Place is situated on the north side of HOLBORN CIRCUS, and once comprised the rose garden of the Bishop of Ely, afterwards leased to Sir Christopher Hatton.

On the opposite side of the Circus, and near to St. Andrew’s Church, is situated Thavies Inn, in which _Mrs. Jellyby_ and family resided, in the days when her daughter _Caddy_ acted as amanuensis _in re_ the affairs of Borrioboola-Gha.

It is described in “Bleak House” as being

“A narrow street of high houses like an oblong cistern to hold the
fog.”

The house No. 13, on the right, has been indicated as once the disorderly residence of the Jellyby family. We may recollect it as the place where _Esther Summerson_ and _Ada_ were accommodated for their first night in London, on which occasion little unfortunate _Peepy_ was found with his head between the area railings, and the house generally turned upside down; while Mrs. Jellyby serenely dictated her correspondence in the family sitting-room, altogether oblivious of such minor domestic accidents.

Esther thus narrates her first impressions:—

“Mrs. Jellyby had very good hair, but was too much occupied with her
African duties to brush it. The shawl in which she had been loosely
muffled dropped on to her chair, when she advanced towards us; and,
as she turned to resume her seat, we could not help noticing that her
dress didn’t nearly meet up the back, and that the open space was
railed across with a lattice work of staylace—like a summer house. .
. . ‘You find me, my dears,’ said Mrs. Jellyby, ‘as usual, very
busy; but that you will excuse. The African project at present
employs my whole time. . . . We hope by this time next year to have
from a hundred and fifty to two hundred healthy families cultivating
coffee and educating the natives of Borrioboola-Gha, on the left bank
of the Niger.”—See “Bleak House,” chapter 4.

_The Buffet of Messrs. Spiers and Pond_ will be found a short distance eastward from Holborn Circus, on the right, next the terminus of the London, Chatham, and Dover railway. A visit to its welcome “contiguity of shade” is confidently recommended to those who may be disposed for necessary rest and refreshment.

RAMBLE IV _Holborn Circus to Tottenham Court Road_

Langdale’s Distillery—Barnard’s Inn; Pip’s Chambers—Furnival’s Inn; Dickens’s and John Westlock’s Apartments—Staple Inn; Mr. Grewgious’s Chambers, P.J.T.; Rooms of Neville Landless and Mr. Tartar; “The Magic Bean-Stalk Country”—Gray’s Inn; Mr. and Mrs. Traddles and “the girls;” Offices of Mr. Perker—The Bull Inn; Scene of Lewsome’s Illness—Kingsgate Street; Poll Sweedlepipe’s Shop; Sairey Gamp’s Apartments—Mrs. Billickin’s Lodgings in Southampton Street; Miss Twinkleton and Rosa Budd—Bloomsbury Square; Lord Mansfield’s Residence—Queen Square—The Children’s Hospital; Johnny’s Will—Foundling Hospital; “No Thoroughfare;” Walter Wilding—“The Boot Tavern”—No. 48 Doughty Street—Tavistock House, Tavistock Square—Mrs. Dickens’s Establishment, No. 4 Gower Street, North; Mrs. Wilfer’s Doorplate—No. 1 Devonshire Terrace—Mr. Merdle’s House, Harley Street—Mr. Dombey’s House—Madame Mantalini’s, Wigmore Street—Wimpole Street; Mr. Boffin’s West-end Residence—Welbeck Street; Lord George Gordon’s Residence—Brook Street, Claridge’s Hotel; Mr. Dorrit’s Return—Devonshire House; Guild of Literature and Art—Hatchett’s Hotel; White Horse Cellars; Mr. Guppy in attendance—193 Piccadilly; Messrs. Chapman and Hall—Golden Square; Ralph Nickleby’s Office—Apartments of the Kenwigs family—The Crown Inn—“Martha’s” Lodgings—Newman Street; Mr. Turveydrop’s Academy—Carlisle House; Doctor Manette and Lucie.

From HOLBORN CIRCUS the Rambler now proceeds westward by the main thoroughfare of _Holborn_, passing _Fetter Lane_ on the left, and arrives at (No. 26) the old premises, now partially rebuilt, formerly Langdale’s Distillery. Half of the same remains (at the moment), but will shortly be superseded by a modern building. The eastern portion is occupied by Messrs. Buchanan, whisky merchants, who have recently purchased the premises. This establishment was sacked (1780) by the Gordon rioters. Mr. Langdale being a Catholic, was obnoxious to the No-Popery mob; and the stores of liquor at this distillery afforded an additional temptation for the attack. The terrible scenes enacted on the occasion are powerfully described in “Barnaby Rudge,” chapters 67 and 68—

“At this place a large detachment of soldiery were posted, who fired,
now up Fleet Market, now up Holborn, now up Snow Hill—constantly
raking the streets in each direction. At this place too, several
large fires were burning, so that all the terrors of that terrible
night seemed to be concentrated in one spot.

“Full twenty times, the rioters, headed by one man who wielded an axe
in his right hand, and bestrode a brewer’s horse of great size and
strength, caparisoned with fetters taken out of Newgate, which
clanked and jingled as he went, made an attempt to force a passage at
this point, and fire the vintner’s house. Full twenty times they
were repulsed with loss of life, and still came back again; and
though the fellow at their head was marked and singled out by all,
and was a conspicuous object as the only rioter on horseback, not a
man could hit him. . . .

“The vintner’s house, with half-a-dozen others near at hand, was one
great, glowing blaze. All night, no one had essayed to quench the
flames, or stop their progress; but now a body of soldiers were
actively engaged in pulling down two old wooden houses, which were
every moment in danger of taking fire, and which could scarcely fail,
if they were left to burn, to extend the conflagration immensely.

“. . . The gutters of the street, and every crack and fissure in the
stones, ran with scorching spirit, which being dammed up by busy
hands, overflowed the road and pavement, and formed a great pool,
into which the people dropped down dead by dozens. They lay in heaps
all round this fearful pond, husbands and wives, fathers and sons,
mothers and daughters, women with children in their arms and babies
at their breasts, and drank until they died. While some stooped with
their lips to the brink and never raised their heads again, others
sprang up from their fiery draught, and danced, half in a mad
triumph, and half in the agony of suffocation, until they fell, and
steeped their corpses in the liquor that had killed them. . . .

“On this last night of the great riots—for the last night it was—the
wretched victims of a senseless outcry, became themselves the dust
and ashes of the flames they had kindled, and strewed the public
streets of London.”

It will be remembered that Mr. Langdale and Mr. Haredale, being in the house that night, were rescued by Edward Chester and Joe Willett, all four finding their way to safety by a back entrance.

“The narrow lane in the rear was quite free of people. So, when they
had crawled through the passage indicated by the vintner (which was a
mere shelving-trap for the admission of casks), and had managed with
some difficulty to unchain and raise the door at the upper end, they
emerged into the street without being observed or interrupted. Joe
still holding Mr. Haredale tight, and Edward taking the same care of
the vintner, they hurried through the streets at a rapid pace.”

This door gives into Fetter Lane (No. 79), and still exists for the inspection of the curious. The old house in Holborn has, for more than a century, replaced the premises so destroyed. Close at hand (by No. 23) is the entrance to Barnard’s Inn—

“The dingiest collection of shabby buildings ever squeezed together
in a rank corner as a club for tom-cats.”

The locality is referred to in these complimentary terms by Mr. Pip (in the pages of “Great Expectations”), who lived here with his friend Herbert Pocket for a short time when he first came to London. Mr. Joe Gargery’s verdict is worth remembrance:—

“The present may be a wery good inn, and I believe its character do
stand i; but I wouldn’t keep a pig in it myself, not in the case that
I wished him to fatten wholesome, and to eat with a meller flavour on
him.”

Pip further describes as follows:—

“We entered this haven through a wicket-gate, and were disgorged by
an introductory passage into a melancholy little square that looked
to me like a flat burying-ground. I thought it had the most dismal
trees in it, and the most dismal sparrows, and the most dismal cats,
and the most dismal houses (in number half-a-dozen or so), that I had
ever seen. . . . A frowzy mourning of soot and smoke attired this
forlorn creation of Barnard, and it had strewed ashes on its head,
and was undergoing penance and humiliation as a mere dust-hole. Thus
for my sense of sight; while dry rot, and wet rot, and all the silent
rots that rot in neglected root and cellar—rot of rat, and mouse, and
bug, and coaching stables near at hand besides—addressed themselves
faintly to my sense of smell, and moaned, ‘Try Barnard’s Mixture.’”

Great alterations are now (1899) being carried out; the old buildings—as above referred to by Mr. Pip—have been demolished, and a new and better arrangement of the locality is in active progress for the improvement of the neighbourhood.

On the opposite side of Holborn are the handsome and extensive offices of THE PRUDENTIAL ASSURANCE COMPANY. These premises, with their frontage, occupy the site of FURNIVAL’S INN, which has recently disappeared, having been pulled down to make room for the extension of the Assurance offices above referred to—_Sic transit memoria mundi_.

Furnival’s Inn was an interesting locality, as associated with the earlier experience of Mr. Dickens himself. Here the young author resided in 1835, the year previous to the production of the “Pickwick Papers,” the first number of that work being published April 1, 1836. On the day following that notable date, Mr. Dickens married Miss Catherine Hogarth; and for some time the young couple resided on the third floor apartments at _No._ 15 _Furnival’s Inn_—on the right side of the square. A personal reminiscence of these early days is no doubt intended in chapter 59 of “David Copperfield;” a pleasant description being there given of the residential chambers of Mr. and Mrs. Traddles, as located in Gray’s Inn just beyond.

_Mr. John Westlock_ had his bachelor apartments in this same place at Furnival’s Inn (_vide_ “Martin Chuzzlewit”), and here he received the unexpected visit of Tom Pinch on his first arrival in London. We may remember the incidents of that cordial welcome, when

“John was constantly running backwards and forwards to and from the
closet, bringing out all sorts of things in pots, scooping
extraordinary quantities of tea out of the caddy, dropping French
rolls into his boots, pouring hot water over the butter, and making a
variety of similar mistakes, without disconcerting himself in the
least.”

In the centre of the interior square, standing within the precincts of Furnival’s Inn during the past seventy-five years, and flourishing in recent days—a quiet oasis of retirement and good cheer amidst the bustle and noise of central London—there existed (until 1895) Woods’ Hotel. This hotel was associated with “The Mystery of Edwin Drood,” being the house at which Mr. Grewgious found accommodation for the charming Rosa Budd (on the occasion of her flight from the importunities of Jasper at Cloisterham), including an “unlimited head chambermaid” for her special behoof and benefit.

“Rosa’s room was airy, clean, comfortable, almost gay. The Unlimited
had laid in everything omitted from the very little bag (that is to
say, everything she could possibly need), and Rosa tripped down the
great many stairs again, to thank her guardian for his thoughtful and
affectionate care of her.

“‘Not at all, my dear,’ said Mr. Grewgious, infinitely gratified; ‘it
is I who thank you for your charming confidence and for your charming
company. Your breakfast will be provided for you in a neat, compact,
and graceful little sitting-room (appropriate to your figure), and I
will come to you at ten o’clock in the morning. I hope you don’t
feel very strange indeed, in this strange place.’

“‘Oh no, I feel so safe!’

“‘Yes, you may be sure that the stairs are fire-proof,’ said Mr.
Grewgious, ‘and that any outbreak of the devouring element would be
perceived and suppressed by the watchmen.’

“‘I did not mean that,’ Rosa replied. ‘I mean, I feel so safe from
him.’

“‘There is a stout gate of iron bars to keep him out,’ said Mr.
Grewgious smiling; ‘and Furnival’s is fire-proof, and specially
watched and lighted, and _I_ live over the way!’ In the stoutness of
his knight-errantry, he seemed to think the last-named protection
all-sufficient. In the same spirit he said to the gate-porter as he
went out, ‘If some one staying in the hotel should wish to send
across the road to me in the night, a crown will be ready for the
messenger.’ In the same spirit, he walked up and down outside the
iron gate for the best part of an hour, with some solicitude;
occasionally looking in between the bars, as if he had laid a dove in
a high roost in a cage of lions, and had it on his mind that she
might tumble out.”

The Hotel was originally built 1818–19, and was enlarged as recently as 1884. Woods was the proprietor for fifty years.

Crossing to the other side of the street, at a short distance onwards, opposite Gray’s Inn Road, the Rambler reaches (by No. 334 High Holborn) the gateway of Staple Inn; a little nook, composed of two irregular quadrangles behind the most ancient part of Holborn, where certain gabled houses, some centuries of age, still stand looking on the public way. Staple Inn was the favourite summer promenade of the meditative _Mr. Snagsby_ (see “Bleak House”); and in this Inn _Mr. Grewgious_ occupied a set of chambers. The house is No. 10, in the inner quadrangle, “presenting in black and white, over its ugly portal, the mysterious inscription, ‘P. J. T., 1747.’ Perhaps John Thomas, or Perhaps Joe Tyler.” And, under certain social conditions, “for a certainty, P. J. T. was Pretty Jolly Too.” _Neville Landless_ also had rooms in this locality; the top set in the corner (on the right), overlooking the garden “where a few smoky sparrows twitter in the smoky trees, as though they had called to each other, ‘let us play at country.’” Close to these lived _Mr. Tartar_, in “the neatest, the cleanest, and the best-ordered chambers ever seen under the sun, moon, and stars.” And we may recall the writer’s delicate treatment of this, the blushing “beanstalk country” of dear little Rosa Budd. For the several associations herewith connected, reference should be made to our author’s last book, “The Mystery of Edwin Drood.”—See concluding paragraphs of chapter 21:—

“Rosa wondered what the girls would say if they could see her
crossing the wide street on the sailor’s arm. And she fancied that
the passers-by must think her very little and very helpless,
contrasted with the strong figure that could have caught her up and
carried her out of any danger, miles and miles without resting.

“She was thinking further, that his far-seeing blue eyes looked as if
they had been used to watch danger afar off, and to watch it without
flinching, drawing nearer and nearer: when, happening to raise her
own eyes, she found that he seemed to be thinking something about
_them_.

“This a little confused Rosebud, and may account for her never
afterwards quite knowing how she ascended (with his help) to his
garden in the air, and seemed to get into a marvellous country that
came into sudden bloom like the country on the summit of the magic
bean-stalk. May it flourish for ever!”

[Picture: Doorway in Staple Inn]

In this connection, the reader may be interested in chapter 22; the first part of which deals most tenderly and beautifully with “love’s awaking,” in the heart of the innocent heroine.

Recrossing to the other side of High Holborn, past _Gray’s Inn Road_ (on the north), at No. 22, we reach the gateway of GRAY’S INN. At No. 2 South Square (formerly Holborn Court) we may find the upper chambers formerly occupied by _Mr. Traddles_ and his wife _Sophy_, whose domestic arrangements included accommodation for “the beauty” and the other Devonshire sisters. Copperfield says, in the chapter before referred to:—

“If I had beheld a thousand roses blowing in a top set of chambers,
in that withered Gray’s Inn, they could not have brightened it half
so much. The idea of those Devonshire girls, among the dry
law-stationers, and the attorneys’ offices; and of the tea and toast,
and children’s songs, in that grim atmosphere of pounce and
parchment, red-tape, dusty wafers, ink-jars, brief and draft paper,
law reports, writs, declarations, and bills of costs, seemed almost
as pleasantly fanciful as if I had dreamed that the Sultan’s famous
family had been admitted on the roll of attorneys, and had brought
the talking-bird, the singing-tree, and the Golden water into Gray’s
Inn Hall.”

The offices of _Mr. Perker_, the legal adviser of Mr. Pickwick, were also located in Gray’s Inn. We read that the “outer door” of these chambers was to be found “after climbing two pairs of steep and dirty stairs;” but no indication is given of their exact situation.

Proceeding westward from Gray’s Inn, and passing the stately, elegant, and commodious _First Avenue Hotel_, between Warwick Court and Brownlow Street, and a half-a-dozen side streets beyond, we come, on the north side, at No. 92, to the Bull and Anchor Tavern. This is the house known in the pages of “Martin Chuzzlewit” as “_The Bull Inn_,” then a more important hostelry than at present. It will be remembered as the inn at which Mr. Lewsome, during his illness, was professionally attended by _Sairey Gamp_ and _Betsy Prig_, “turn and turn about.”

Passing on to the next turning but one, we reach Kingsgate Street, where _Poll Sweedlepipes_—barber and bird-fancier—once had his business location, “next door but one to the celebrated mutton-pie shop, and directly opposite the original cat’s-meat warehouse.” At this place the immortal _Mrs. Gamp_ had lodgings on the first floor, where she

“Was easily assailed at night by pebbles, walking-sticks, and
fragments of tobacco pipes, all much more efficacious than the
street-door knocker, which was so constructed as to wake the street
with ease, and even spread alarms of fire in Holborn, without making
the smallest impression on the premises to which it was addressed.”

It is recollected in the neighbourhood that, fifty years since, a barber by the name of Patterson (who was also a bird-dealer) lived in this street, at the second house on the left. The shop has been pulled down, is now absorbed by the corner premises in Holborn, and can be only identified by its position. Here, then, did _Mr. Pecksniff_ arrive on his doleful mission, in accordance with the recommendation of _Mr. Mould_, the undertaker, with regard to the death of old _Anthony Chuzzlewit_; and here did that memorable teapot cause a lasting difference between two friends, as narrated in chapter 49 of “Martin Chuzzlewit.” “This world-famous personage, Mrs. Gamp, has passed into and become one with the language” whose vernacular she has adorned with her own flowers of speech. As Mr. Forster remarks, “she will remain among the everlasting triumphs of fiction, a superb masterpiece of English humour.” “Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale, her infinite variety.” At the Holborn corner of Kingsgate Street we may remember _Mr. Bailey_, _junior_, on the occasion when, at this exact spot, he collided with Poll Sweedlepipes, afterwards going “round and round in circles on the pavement,” the better to exhibit to Poll’s admiring gaze his fashionable livery as Tiger in the service of _Mr. Montague Tigg_, “rather to the inconvenience of the passengers generally, who were not in an equal state of spirits with himself.”

The next turning but one, westward, on the right, by the West Central Post Office (No. 126), is Southampton Street, leading to Bloomsbury Square.

Here it will be remembered that lodgings were taken by Mr. Grewgious for _Miss Twinkleton_ and Rosa, of the redoubtable _Mrs. Billickin_, “the person of the ’ouse,” who, from prudential motives, suppressed her Christian name.

“Mr. Grewgious had his agreement-lines and his earnest-money ready.
‘I have signed it for the ladies, ma’am,’ he said, ‘and you’ll have
the goodness to sign it for yourself, Christian and Surname, there,
if you please.’

“‘Mr. Grewgious,’ said Mrs. Billickin in a new burst of candour, ‘no,
sir! You must excuse the Christian name.’

“Mr. Grewgious stared at her.

“‘The door-plate is used as a protection,’ said Mrs. Billickin, ‘and
acts as such, and go from it I will not.’

“Mr. Grewgious stared at Rosa.

“‘No, Mr. Grewgious, you must excuse me. So long as this ’ouse is
known indefinite as Billickin’s, and so long as it is a doubt with
the riff-raff where Billickin may be hidin’, near the street-door or
down the airy, and what his weight and size, so long I feel safe.
But commit myself to a solitary female statement, no, Miss! Nor
would you for a moment wish,’ said Mrs. Billickin, with a strong
sense of injury, ‘to take that advantage of your sex, if you were not
brought to it by inconsiderate example.’

“Rosa reddening as if she had made some most disgraceful attempt to
overreach the good lady, besought Mr. Grewgious to rest content with
any signature. And accordingly, in a baronial way, the sign-manual
BILLICKIN got appended to the document.”

And we may here recall the incidental passage of arms between the worthy landlady and Miss Twinkleton, Mrs. B. being always in direct antagonism with the schoolmistress, against whom she “openly pitted herself as one whom she fully ascertained to be her natural enemy.” Witness “the B. enveloped in the shawl of State,” as she remarked to Miss Twinkleton that

“‘A rush from scanty feeding to generous feeding, from what you may
call messing to what you may call method, do require a power of
constitution, which is not often found in youth, particular when
undermined by boarding-school. . . . I was put in youth to a very
genteel boarding-school, the mistress being no less a lady than
yourself, of about your own age, or it may be some years younger, and
a poorness of blood flowed from the table, which has run through my
life.’

* * * * *

“‘If you refer to the poverty of your circulation,’ began Miss
Twinkleton, when again the Billickin neatly stopped her.

“‘I have used no such expressions.’

“‘If you refer, then, to the poorness of your blood—’

“‘Brought upon me,’ stipulated the Billickin, expressly, ‘at a
boarding-school—’

“‘Then,’ resumed Miss Twinkleton, ‘all I can say is, that I am bound
to believe, on your asseveration, that it is very poor indeed. I
cannot forbear adding, that if that unfortunate circumstance
influences your conversation, it is much to be lamented, and it is
eminently desirable that your blood were richer.’”

Southampton Street is not a long one, and is now chiefly occupied by solicitors and architects; but there is reason to believe that the Billickins’ residence was, aforetime, to be found at No. 18, which is situated next door but one to an archway. As Mrs. B. herself candidly pointed out,

“The arching leads to a mews; mewses must exist.”

The mews aforesaid is now superseded by a factory. Mrs. Billickin has long since relinquished the cares of housekeeping and retired from public life. The present amiable landlady conducts the business on different principles, and will be at all times disposed to give her patrons satisfaction, whether they be of the scholastic persuasion or otherwise.

Southampton Street leads immediately northward into Bloomsbury Square. This place is mentioned in “Barnaby Rudge” as the locality in which _Lord Mansfield’s_ residence was situated at the period of the Gordon Riots. In chapter 66 its destruction by the rioters is thus described:—

“They began to demolish the house with great fury; and setting fire
to it in several places, involved in a common ruin the whole of the
costly furniture, the plate and jewels, a beautiful gallery of
pictures, the rarest collection of manuscripts ever possessed by any
one private person in the world, and, worst of all, because nothing
could replace the loss, the great Law Library, on almost every page
of which were notes, in the judge’s own hand, of inestimable value;
being the results of the study and experience of his whole life.”

[Picture: The Children’s Hospital]

The house occupied the site of No. 29, on the east side of the square. We subsequently read in the same book that two of the rioters—cripples—were hanged in this square, the execution being momentarily delayed, as they were placed facing the house they had assisted to despoil. Leaving the square at its north-east angle (right) by _Bloomsbury Place_, the Rambler shortly comes into _Southampton Row_, turning left, and proceeding for a short distance upwards to _Cosmo Place_ on the right, a short cut which leads directly to the contiguous shades of Queen Square just beyond. It will be remembered that in this neighbourhood Richard Carstone had furnished apartments at the time when he was pursuing the experimental study of the Law under the auspices of Messrs. Kenge and Carboy (see “Bleak House,” chapter 18). There is reason to believe that the “quiet old” house intended was No. 28 _Devonshire Street_, leading from the south-east angle of the square.

Leaving Queen Square by _Great Ormond Street_ (eastward), we immediately arrive, on the north side (No. 50), at The Children’s Hospital, adjacent to the Catholic Church and Convent of St. John. In 1858, February 9th, a public dinner was arranged, by way of charitable appeal, for funds necessary to carry on and develop the work. It was happily resolved to invite Charles Dickens to preside on that occasion, and he “threw himself into the service heart and soul.” His earnest, pathetic, but powerful appeal—“majestic in its own simplicity”—that night added more than £3000 to the treasury, which amount was, two months afterwards, substantially increased by the proceeds of a public reading of his “Christmas Carol.” It is pleasant to record that this institution has ever since flourished amain, thus fulfilling the prediction of Dickens when, suggesting that the enterprise could not be possibly maintained unless the Hospital were made better known, he continued as follows:—

“I limit myself to saying—better known, because I will not believe
that, in a Christian community of fathers and mothers, and brothers
and sisters, it can fail, being better known, to be well and richly
endowed.”

We may here recall the scene narrated in chapter 9 of “Our Mutual Friend,” when _Johnny_ makes his will and arranges his affairs, leaving “a kiss for the boofer lady”—

“The family whom God had brought together were not all asleep, but
were all quiet. From bed to bed, a light womanly tread and a
pleasant fresh face passed in the silence of the night. A little
head would lift itself into the softened light here and there, to be
kissed as the face went by—for these little patients are very
loving—and would then submit itself to be composed to rest again. . .
. Over most of the beds, the toys were yet grouped as the children
had left them when they last laid themselves down, and in their
innocent grotesqueness and incongruity they might have stood for the
children’s dreams.”

Proceeding eastward by _Great Ormond Street_ and turning (left) through _Lamb’s Conduit Street_, to its northern end, we face the entrance of the Foundling Hospital. This beneficent institution was established by Captain Thomas Coram, about the middle of the last century, and is associated with “No Thoroughfare,” the Christmas number (and last in the series) of “All the Year Round,” 1867. Visitors attending the morning service of the _Foundling Church_ on Sundays are admitted to the children’s _Dining-Hall_ thereafter, and so may have an opportunity of realising the scene portrayed by Dickens, when the “veiled lady” induced a female attendant to point out Walter Wilding:—

“The bright autumnal sun strikes freshly into the wards; and the
heavy-framed windows through which it shines, and the panelled walls
on which it shines, are such windows, and such walls as pervade
Hogarth’s pictures. Neat attendants silently glide about the orderly
and silent tables, the lookers-on move or stop as the fancy takes
them; comments in whispers on face such a number, from such a window,
are not unfrequent—many of the faces are of a character to fix
attention. Some of the visitors from the outside public are
accustomed visitors. They have established a speaking acquaintance
with the occupants of particular seats at the table, and halt at
those points to say a word or two.”

In “Little Dorrit,” too, reference is made to this institution, _in re_ the adoption of Tattycoram by good Papa and Mamma Meagles. In the times of Barnaby Rudge, the London streets were not greatly extended northward beyond this (now central) neighbourhood. We may remember that the headquarters of the “Captain,” Sim Tappertit, Hugh, and Dennis were at The “Boot” Tavern, which is described as

“A lone place of public entertainment, situated in the fields at the
back of the Foundling Hospital; a very solitary spot at that period,
and quite deserted after dark. The Tavern stood at some distance
from any high road, and was only approachable by a dark and narrow
lane.”

Proceeding onwards through _Guilford Street_, we reach _Doughty Street_, _Mecklenburgh Square_, running transversely north and south. On the east side we may note No. 48 Doughty Street, as the house to which Dickens removed from _Furnival’s Inn_, in the early spring of 1837, and in which he lived two years and a half, previous to his longer residence at _No._ 1 _Devonshire Terrace_. In it “Oliver Twist” and “Nicholas Nickleby” were written; and here, too, the early friendship, which had been for some time steadily developing between Dickens and Forster, became cemented for life. His biographer says:—

“Nor had many weeks passed before he addressed to me from Doughty
Street, words which it is my sorrowful pride to remember have had
literal fulfilment. ‘I look back with unmingled pleasure to every
link which each ensuing week has added to the chain of our
attachment. It shall go hard, I hope, ere anything but death impairs
the toughness of a bond now so firmly riveted.’”

The route being retraced to the Foundling Hospital, and thence continued through Guilford Street to _Russell __Square_, we turn (right) by _Woburn Place_ to TAVISTOCK SQUARE, on the south side of which (TAVISTOCK VILLAS) is situated Tavistock House. To this residence Dickens removed (from DEVONSHIRE TERRACE) in October 1851, retaining its possession for nearly ten years. During this time “Bleak House” was completed, and “Hard Times,” “Little Dorrit,” and the “Tale of Two Cities” were given to the world. TAVISTOCK HOUSE is now transformed into a Jewish College. _Hans Christian Andersen_, visiting his friend in London, gives the following description:—

“In Tavistock Square stands Tavistock House. This and the strip of
garden in front of it are shut out from the thoroughfare by an iron
railing. A large garden, with a grass plat and high trees, stretches
behind the house, and gives it a countrified look in the midst of
this coal and gas steaming London. In the passage from street to
garden hung pictures and engravings. Here stood a marble bust of
Dickens, so like him, so youthful and handsome; and over a bedroom
door were inserted the bas-reliefs of Night and Day, after
Thorwaldsen. On the first floor was a rich library, with a fireplace
and a writing-table, looking out on the garden; and here it was that
in winter Dickens and his friends acted plays to the satisfaction of
all parties. The kitchen was underground, and at the top of the
house were the bedrooms.”

[Picture: Tavistock House]

Leaving this locality at the north-west angle, passing _Gordon Square_, we turn (right) into _Gordon Street_, and (left) through _Gower Place_, to GOWER STREET, on the west side of which—opposite—is the house once bearing a large brass plate on the door, announcing Mrs. Dickens’s Establishment, being the place at which Mrs. Dickens (mother of Charles) endeavoured to set up a school during the difficult times of 1822. The family lived here for a short time, previous to the Marshalsea imprisonment of Dickens senior; Charles being then a boy ten years of age. In the first chapter of Forster’s Biography is the following:—

“A house was soon found at number four, Gower Street North; a large
brass plate on the door announced Mrs. Dickens’s establishment; and
the result I can give in the exact words of the then small actor in
the comedy, whose hopes it had raised so high: ‘I left at a great
many other doors a great many circulars, calling attention to the
merits of the establishment. Yet nobody ever came to school, nor do
I recollect that anybody ever proposed to come, or that the least
preparation was made to receive anybody. But, I know that we got on
very badly with the butcher and baker; that very often we had not too
much for dinner; and that at last my father was arrested.’ . . .
Almost everything by degrees was pawned or sold, little Charles being
the principal agent in these sorrowful transactions . . . until at
last, even of the furniture of Gower Street, number four, there was
nothing left except a few chairs, a kitchen table, and some beds.
Then they encamped, as it were, in the two parlours of the emptied
house, and lived there night and day.”

Gower Street has been rearranged since that time (there is now no Gower Street North), and the houses are renumbered. No. 145, near _Gower Street Chapel_, and other houses adjoining, are now in the occupation of Messrs. Maple & Co.; and this No. 145 was the house then enumerated as No. 4 Gower Street North. Mrs. Dickens’s experience, it will be remembered, has been pleasantly referred to in the pages of “Our Mutual Friend;” the stately _Mrs. Wilfer_ therein making a similar experiment, with the same result. In chapter 4 we read of _Rumpty’s_ return home from business: when

“Something had gone wrong with the house door, for R. Wilfer stopped
on the steps, staring at it, and cried ‘Hal-loa?’ ‘Yes,’ said Mrs.
Wilfer, ‘the man came himself with a pair of pincers and took it off,
and took it away. He said that as he had no expectation of ever
being paid for it, and as he had an order for another _Ladies’
School_ door-plate, it was better (burnished up) for the interests of
all parties.’”

On the opposite corner of the street is the _Gower Street Station_ of the Metropolitan Railway, at which train may be taken to _Baker Street_. On arrival, we turn to the right, by _Marylebone Road_, to Devonshire Terrace, consisting of three houses at the northern end of _High Street_,_ Marylebone_. No. 1, now occupied by a legal firm, was for twelve years the residence of Charles Dickens (when in town). It is described by Forster as

“A handsome house with a garden of considerable size, shut out from
the New Road by a brick wall, facing the York Gate into Regent’s
Park.”

To quote the ironical dictum of its future tenant when the choice was made, it was “a house of great promise (and great premium), undeniable situation, and excessive splendour.” During the period of the author’s residence here several of his best-known books were given to the world—“Master Humphrey’s Clock,” CHRISTMAS BOOKS, and “David Copperfield” included. Proceeding forwards and eastward past _Devonshire Place_, we may take our way, turning on the right down Harley Street, of which we read in “Little Dorrit” that,

“Like unexceptionable society, the opposing rows of houses in Harley
Street were very grim with one another. Indeed, the mansions and
their inhabitants were so much alike in that respect that the people
were often to be found drawn up on opposite sides of dinner tables,
in the shade of their own loftiness, staring at the other side of the
way with the dulness of the houses. Everybody knows how like the
street the two dinner-rows of people who take their stand by the
street will be. The expressionless uniform twenty houses, all to be
knocked at and rung at in the same form, all approachable by the same
dull steps, all fended off by the same pattern of railing, all with
the same impracticable fire-escapes, the same inconvenient fixtures
in their heads, and everything, without exception, to be taken at a
high valuation—who has not dined with these?”

In this street lived that great financier and swindler _Mr. Merdle_, who had his residence in one of the handsomest of these handsome houses; but it would be, perhaps, invidious to point out any particular location for the same, Dickens himself having purposely omitted an exact address. Following the course of Harley Street, we come in due time to QUEEN ANNE STREET, running east and west. Adopting the leftward turning (east), we may find at the next corner—_Mansfield Street_—on the north side, Mr. Dombey’s House, as described in chapter 3 of “Dombey and Son”—

“Mr. Dombey’s house was a large one, on the shady side of a tall,
dark, dreadfully genteel street in the region between Portland Place
and Bryanston Square. It was a corner house, with great wide areas
containing cellars, frowned upon by barred windows, and leered at by
crooked-eyed doors leading to dust-bins. It was a house of dismal
state, with a circular back to it, containing a whole suite of
drawing-rooms looking upon a gravelled yard.”

It will be observed that the position and character of this mansion exactly correspond to the above description, being in its general style noteworthy and unique. This, then, was the private establishment and “home department” of the Dombey family, where died the gentle Paul; the lonely house in which the neglected Florence grew to lovely womanhood; what time the second wife—the stately Edith—held temporary sway.

Hence a short distance southward leads to _Cavendish Square_. In this neighbourhood we read that Madame Mantalini’s fashionable dressmaking establishment was situated, at which Kate Nickleby was for some few weeks engaged, on the recommendation of her uncle. The house intended was probably in _Wigmore Street_, No. 11. In the days of the Mantalini _régime_ the business was advertised

“To the nobility and gentry by the casual exhibition, near the
handsomely-curtained windows, of two or three elegant bonnets of the
newest fashion, and some costly garments in the most approved taste.”

By the next turning (right) on the north side we come into WIMPOLE STREET; on the east of which, at the corner of the third block, stands The West End Residence—No. 43—aforetime occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Boffin; which became, later on, the property of Mr. John Harmon and his wife. It is described as “a corner house, not far from Cavendish Square.” Near this house _Silas Wegg_—assuming some knowledge of its affairs—kept his street-stall. He was accustomed to refer to it as “Our House,” its (imaginary) inmates being Miss Elizabeth, Master George, Aunt Jane, and Uncle Parker.

Returning to Wigmore Street, we arrive by the next block at Welbeck Street, running transversely thereto. In this street was the London residence of _Lord George Gordon_, as referred to in the pages of “Barnaby Rudge.” The house is No. 64, the second from Wigmore Street on the left side. It is within the recollection of the present landlord that the old balcony—from which Lord George was wont to harangue the public—was many years since superseded by the present continuous railing.

We now come south into the West-end artery of _Oxford Street_, crossing same to _Davies Street_, by which we may soon reach BROOK STREET, GROSVENOR SQUARE, running east and west. On the south-eastern angle of its intersection stands Claridge’s Hotel. It will be remembered that on _Mr. Dorrit’s_ return from the Continent, after the marriage of his daughter Fanny, “the Courier had not approved of his staying at the house of a friend, and had preferred to take him to an hotel in Brook Street, Grosvenor Square.” This was doubtless the establishment favoured by the Courier’s preference on that occasion; and where Mr. Merdle paid a state visit to Mr. Dorrit at breakfast-time the next morning; taking him afterwards in his carriage to the City.

Readers of “Dombey and Son” may be reminded that the Feenix Town House was situated in this same BROOK STREET; but no clue is afforded of its exact whereabouts. It is described as an aristocratic mansion of a dull and gloomy sort; and was borrowed by the _Honourable Mrs. Skewton_ from a stately relative, on the occasion of her daughter’s marriage. Here also, in aftertime, the final interview between _Florence_ and _Edith_ took place.

[Picture: The Drawing-Room, Devonshire House]

Keeping on through _Davies Street_ across _Berkeley Square_, we come through _Berkeley Street_ to Piccadilly, in the close vicinity of Devonshire House, a mansion of fashionable and political repute, belonging to the _Duke of Devonshire_. Here, on the 27th of May 1851, in the great drawing-room and library, Dickens and his _confrères_ of “The Guild of Literature and Art” performed, for the first time, Sir Bulwer Lytton’s comedy (written for the occasion) “Not so Bad as We Seem,” in the presence of the Queen, Prince Albert and a brilliant audience. The Duke not only afforded the necessary accommodation, but (as Mr. Forster writes), in his princely way, discharged all attendant expenses. Many distinguished authors and artists assisted at this performance, including Douglas Jerrold, Maclise, and John Leech.